BOSSY is coming indeed!
She likes to tan - just not her face. "Sun" on the face, is bad. I also happen to suck in Photoshop and am hoping for a tutorial in exchange for the fact that her coming to visit has forced me to do laundry and stuff. I wouldn't want BOSSY to think we live like college students. Shah.
I really aught to have gotten some t-shirts made...
So BOSSY is coming to town. The anticipation of her arrival has made me uber (because I love that word and I don't care if you're sick of it already) frantic. I had put off cleaning the house until last night - because I don't understand what 'pacing oneself' means. Let me describe to you how this all unfeld (cuz unfolded don't even sound right!).
For starters, all our interior doors (you know to bedrooms and bathrooms), have been in our garage for the last few months. Why? Because privacy is overrated when you're married. At first it was awkward, taking a "deuce" and all with the dogs staring at you from the hallway - but after a few weeks, we started to realize how improved circulation is when you arent holding it up in a 6X6 room for the unfortunate person who needs to brush their teeth...or whatnot. In addition to improved air circulation, it's just less work people. All that opening, and closing, and opening. Ridiculous!
We have joked about 'what will we do if someone ELSE comes to shit in our house?'. But considering Vern is the only one who ever visits us - and since she is probably one of THE Founding Hippies, we were all like 'eh'. 'We can't be bothered!'.
Oh - so the doors were in the garage....because they were UGLY. Dark Brown. And with frightening scrapes up and down most. We think the previous owners were in to feline torture. One of the last remaining traces that we are in fact living in a home that was built in the 60's. Unfortunately the TURQUOISE BLUE TOILET, FLOOR TILES, AND TUB in BOSSY's bathroom - just spoils the whole illusion of MODERN CHIC RANCH. That and the giant white columns on the porch. But we're working on that. So it was Zack's hope we could revive the doors. He had sanded them down - but since I am the 'painter' in the family - it was my job to get them painted so he could put them back in. Hence the few months gone by since they came off their hinges. I've been stalling.
But then Bossy decided that since I am often UNEMPLOYED and without chirrens - that I would be the most obvious candidate for hosting her during her tear through the southeast. The booze, knitted potholders, pillow-top euro-to-the-max with lbs of cashmere-laden-thread we can't sleep on because it kills our backs BED, and abundance of Prilosec were just a few of the upgrades I offered to provide. What she doesn't realize is there may be a paintbrush waiting for her on her nightstand and a tip jar on top of the PADDLER magazine behind the toilet - she's sure to enjoy. So needless to say, the doors had to get put back on.
I was up all night. Painting, scrubbing, cleaning. Chasing furballs into dark corners. I want BOSSY to feel comfortable enough to take off her shoes without slipping on Zoe's winter coat. It's the little things.
Can't wait to report tomorrow. As much as I wanted to kidnap BOSSY and take her to THE CLERMONT LOUNGE where she could learn how to crush beer cans with her boobs - afterwhich we would go to the VARSITY for CHILI DOGS and ONION RINGS - I figured some margaritas and tacos in the trendy Decatur neighorhood I consider home, would be more appropriate for our 'first date'. A bunch of us will be meeting to talk amongst ourselves and with any luck, I'll get them all shitty enough on tequila to think that Irish Car Bombs at the BRICKSTORE would be fun. Wouldn't you like to see a shot of BOSSY with her face down on a plate of french fries at 3 in the morning?
THAT would be AWESOME - if I weren't such a shit talker who starts to yawn after a half glass of wine - who will probably be asleep in the car while Bossy and Friends party all night long. We shall see...
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